


A Flash of Fury in the Night

by wickedhoney7



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Darcy is a badass, F/M, Fury is a nice guy - no really, Tags make my brain twitch, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:03:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedhoney7/pseuds/wickedhoney7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>It was supposed to be all about her sister's elopement.<br/>But when Darcy Lewis finds a ring on her own finger the next morning, she has a funny feeling that her sister isn't the only one who had a magical weekend in Vegas.<br/>Now if she could find the new Mr Lewis --because like hell she was changing <i>her</i> name-- everything would be just fantastic.<br/>Probably.</p>
</div><p>A flash of Farcy because I had an idea and went mad.<br/>Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Night to Forget

The evening came to her in flashes.

They started out innocent enough --or as innocent as a call to "Get your ass down to the strip, _stat_ ," ever was.

She remembered bitching about it in the moment, but she also remembered finally having the perfect excuse to break open her piggy bank and head to Vegas. What was more perfect than her sister's elopement, after all?

Then there was the last-minute flight out of Minneapolis where she was seated next to a weird, but extremely handsome physicist --whom she could actually understand some after that internship-turned-almost-career last summer. She had maybe had a few too many drinks on that flight, but she was celebrating, and if she was a little more flirtatious than she maybe should have, who the hell cared? And she got that guy's number, even if she couldn't remember his name.

Though for some reason she could remember he had a brother Kevin and his father's name was Adam, and he wasn't on very good terms with either of them.

She remembered more drinks as she and Delilah and Delilah's best friend Magda shopped for the perfect last-minute wedding dress and bridesmaids dresses. It was probably the drink that had encouraged the fantastically inappropriate cut of all three gowns, but they were young, one of them was in love, and who could blame them for flashing a little skin? Not to mention it was the middle of July, and the moment they stepped out of the dress shop, there was the general consensus that they would all melt if they didn't get back into air conditioning.

She glanced through the various selfies they had taken, and had to admit she looked damned good in that red silk...if vaguely sluttish.

Mother would be proud, if she could be bothered to come home more than once every six months to check in and get another boost to her bank account.

The outfit probably was part of how she had ended up not buying a single drink all night --the first by the best man, and it went on from there. She would have been worried about coherency during the main event, but she had always been able to hold her liquor well, and even if she hadn't, Magda did _not_ hold her liquor well, so no one was paying attention to her sobriety --or lack thereof-- while the other bridesmaid (she refused to call her the maid of honor on principle) giggled and teetered her way through the ceremony at the hotel chapel. Though Delilah didn't seem to mind as she draped herself provacatively over her new husband, and the next round of drinks was on the newly-wed Mr and Mrs Allan.

And the next round was on the casino bartender after he got a look down the front of her dress.

Then came the dark man. He was out of place, but not awkward, and though his sitting beside her at the bar was abrupt, it was not unwelcome. Not that he was much of a talker, she recalled, but after a few more drinks, talking hadn't been the point. No, there was not a lot of talking after that, just a meeting of bodies and heat and a tension she hadn't known she was carrying disappeared as those hands guided her body with much more finesse than anyone ever had before, and the rest of the night was a blur, and she (mostly) didn't mind that _What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas_.

Until she woke up late for her return flight home and shoved everything on the bedside table into her bag, and ran out the door, not caring about --or rather, fiercely ignoring the sound of the shower in the ensuite bathroom. It had been a one-night stand, and while she wasn't exactly thrilled about that fact, she had done stupid things before, and this too would pass.

Except for the one flash that wasn't just a drunken memory she could reminisce on the plane about.

She was on her way home, but something about the bright diamond that flashed on her ring finger told her that Darcy Lewis' life was in for some changes.


	2. A Day to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm might be a little ecstatic that you're all enjoying this so well.
> 
> I won't guarantee updates this fast (because, hell, my last fic just got updated for the first time since last year), but as long as my muse keeps talking to me, I'll relay her communications to you in turn.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this first little glimpse into Nick's mind.
> 
> Cheers.

It had been a rough day, and he remembered every minute of it.

A simple defend and escort mission was supposed to be simple. It wasn't usually his thing, no, but the mark was important enough that he had only rolled his eyes at the request for his attendance. It had been awhile since he'd been out in the field anyway, and he could afford to stretch his legs.

Fifteen minutes in Princess Kalikama's presence and he was regretting his decision.

When he had taken the assignment, he had been under the impression that the princess was a woman just a little younger than him, classy and demure, and comfortable enough in the real world that her station was just a title and nothing more. Upon introduction, he knew immediately that he had missed some fine print; Princess Kalikama was sixteen, beautiful, and a pain in the ass.

"My name is Kalikama Marue Nonaroto Ipsala Doko, and you may address me as Your Highness or Your Excellency or even Your Grace. And if I catch you staring, I'll have you fired and deported immediately."

He didn't bother to tell the girl that he was an American citizen; she talked so fast he was sure she wouldn't hear a thing he said anyway. And when he reminded himself of who her father was --though he admitted to being surprised the man had a daughter so young-- he knew that he would see this job through. He would just think of her like one of his cousins back in high school: vain, loud, and obsessed with anything to do with themselves. Yes, they had tortured him a time or two, but he knew he could handle it, could handle the princess, and so he accepted that he would probably be trolling the mall all day.

The mall wasn't exactly what he had expected, however.

When he thought of teenage girls at the mall, he thought of piles of shopping bags, fat-free smoothies paired with greasy cheeseburgers, and changing room after changing room after changing room. And there was that moment with the changing room, he acknowledged, but he didn't anticipate being in the room with the girl, or having a crazed stalker shooting up the store outside. _Your Grace_ had been properly terrified, at least, but he hated females crying, especially teenage females who howled at the top of their lungs and drew unwanted attention to themselves.

And he hated having to call for backup on what should have been just a routine mission.

And he _especially_ hated losing good men for a girl that didn't even give him a proper thank you before dashing into her father's arms when they finally got her out of that mall and to their final destination --he had wanted to ascertain exactly what happened with the stalker, but the princess had been hysterical at that point, so he consoled himself with knowing that he could check things out later when he got back to headquarters. He would have to send his condolences as well, but he couldn't focus on that now.

At least the princess' father had been properly grateful, he consoled himself, and then turned to find the nearest bar he could.

Meeting in a hotel in Vegas, that bar just happened to be in a casino, but as long as the alcohol wasn't watered down, he wouldn't complain.

Perhaps it _should_ have been watered down.

The girl next to him was chatty, almost irritatingly so, except _Your Grace_ had been so much worse, so it was almost a relief to listen to someone else babble on about nothing and everything. She was still young, but not so young he didn't take her up on the suggestion of going for a walk to clear the haze. And she was _funny_ , and smart, too, he found, as they first discussed her reason for being in Sin City --her sister's elopement with some guy that she hadn't known long, but she was pretty she he could take on Prince Charming-- and how difficult it was to be taken serious in politics as a woman -- _very_ , he discovered, even with that political science degree tucked in her nonexistent back pocket-- and how sometimes you had to take the jobs you didn't want so you could pay the bills --and he didn't even need the story to understand that one.

They stopped at three more places, he thought, maybe four, before he decided to call it a night...

Which is why he was a little confused the next morning when he woke with the girl draped over him in a hotel room bed that he didn't exactly remember paying for.

He eased away, cataloguing the pale dawn light seeping between the silk drapes over the windows, the bottle of Krug Rosé on the dresser with two glasses, one of them still half full, the vivid red dress tossed haphazardly over a chair --and he might have some vivid memories of that dress, now he saw it again, the mess of papers and trinkets on the bedside table --and was that an Eiffel Tower keychain in that mess? So she's a romantic, he thought, but shook it off-- and the soft sound of her breath in the otherwise silent room.

His head hurt like Thor was pounding on it with his hammer, but he still managed to smile as the girl grabbed the pillow he had been sleeping on and snuggled it to her chest. And then frown; damn, she was young. He could probably be her father, if he'd ever been stupid enough to father a child.

He would think about stupidity later, however, he decided, as he picked up the phone and ordered some breakfast from room service --and God, he hoped this girl liked pancakes, because he wasn't about to jog his brain with all the foreign-named delicacies he saw on the menu. That done, he stepped into the shower, and wondered if maybe the girl would like to keep him company a little longer. Hell, he could use a vacation, hadn't taken one in years, and though the clan back at headquarters might be surprised, he doubted they would question him about it.

Thoughts of a vacation evaporated as he stepped back into the room, towel wrapped around his waist, and saw the empty bed.

Maybe it was the hangover talking --and hangovers made everything, EVERYTHING look worse in the light of day-- but Nick Fury was pretty sure he had just had a one-night stand without even getting the girl's name.


	3. Admitting Defeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments, it's because of you that I can keep writing!!  
> I'm not sure where exactly this is all going --and neither is Darcy-- but I hope you continue to tag along for the ride.
> 
> Cheers.

"You did _what_?"

Darcy flinched and pulled the phone away from her ear at her sister's high-pitched shriek. Delilah's moods had always been unpredictable, and while she had always looked up to her, Darcy understood that this might be one of those times she looked down on her. Hell, she looked down on _herself_ , and it had been nearly a week since she'd returned home from the crazy mess that was her sister's elopement.

"I, uh, got married."

" _Without me_?"

She was glad she didn't have the phone on speaker, because no telling how loud her sister would get at this point.

"Yes?" She cursed her timid manner; she might not always look it, but she was the big sister --even if only by nine months-- and she shouldn't sound so apologetic to her younger sister, even if it was over something stupid like this.

" _When_?"

"As far as I can tell, a few hours after you did."

"A few-- _WHAT_?"

"Delilah, I--"

"And you're just _now_ telling me?"

Yeah, Delilah was pissed.

"Delilah--"

"Oh my _GOD_ , this is _AMAZING_!!"

Or not.

"What?"

"You realize this means we can double-date for our anniversary? And we can have a double-wedding-renewal ceremony for our twentieth anniversary, and--"

"Wait, wait," Darcy stopped her mid-tirade, and frowned. Had she said Delilah's moods were unpredictable? Try unfathomable. "You're not mad at me?"

"Well, of course I'm mad," she laughed, and Darcy's frown deepened. "Why didn't you tell me you wanted to elope, too?"

"I didn't exactly--"

"And you should have at least told me before Mr Allan and I left for the Bahamas, silly girl."

Darcy couldn't decide if it was charming or annoying that Delilah referred to her husband by his last name, but she shook it off. There were bigger concerns here.

"I didn't plan it."

"You didn't-- _what_?"

"I met him at the hotel bar. And apparently sometime between then and when I ran to catch my plane home, we got married."

" _What_?"

"And did the nasty," she added, because if she didn't, Delilah would ask anyway. "Well, I think we did. The images are both hazy and vivid, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I do," Delilah replied, and Darcy didn't know whether to laugh or pretend to gag. Though she was the big sister, Delilah had lost her virginity first, and they had always been frank about sex, though whether because they wanted to avoid being their mother or simply because they had no one else to talk to, Darcy was never sure. To say the least, there had been so many awkward conversations that the term awkward became obsolete, and new conquests were discussed both at length and in detail whenever they arose. "So he's good in the sack, then?"

"Uh, yes, but--"

"You're keeping him away from Mother, yes? You know she can smell bedroom prowess from a mile away."

Darcy choked on a laugh, and shook her head.

"I don't think that will be a problem. You see, Nicholas is--"

"Nicholas? I like that. Will he hate me if I call him Nicky?"

The laugh took on a nervous tic and Darcy shook her head again, running her free hand through her dark hair.

"I don't know."

"Well, don't tell him, and I'll surprise him when I meet him. When would be a good time? Mr Allan and I will be back in six days, and I was thinking of brunch anyway, so--"

"Delilah."

The age difference might as well have been nothing, so close they were that, unpredictable moods or not, when one of them spoke in The Tone, the other listened.

"What's wrong, Darcy?"

_What's wrong_ , she thought, and stared down at the paper on the kitchen counter, the paper she had been staring at for almost a week, tracing the letters written in damn-near-perfect calligraphy set next to her own illegible scrawl, and she sighed.

"He's not with me."

"Come again?"

Darcy took a breath, clenched her left hand around the ring that she hadn't looked at since the plane, but just as adamantly had refused to take off, and tried to keep a smile in her voice as she went on, "I left him in Vegas."

"Excuse me?"

"And I didn't even say goodbye."

"What now?"

"Because I was rushing, and I just threw my stuff in my bag, and now all I have is a marriage certificate with a name, and I have no idea where to start looking."

"Darcy."

"Or even if I should."

"Oh dear."

"Though the ring is beautiful," she finished, her voice cracking as the emotion she had been holding back all week finally burst through her walls, and suddenly she was crying, and Delilah was talking a mile a minute, and Darcy didn't know whether she was relieved to finally have someone to talk to about it or whether she should have left it all in Vegas with the rest of her hazy memories. "The ring is beautiful," she whispered again, and wondered what the hell she was going to do.


End file.
